


Dirty Manhattans

by CompletelyCreative



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Character Death, Detective Castiel, Fandom-Songs Writing Challenge, Gangster Dean, M/M, but its like, fswc, idk man read to see, implied not actually done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompletelyCreative/pseuds/CompletelyCreative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Famous Detective Castiel Novak or 'Detective N.', and the Infamous Crime Leader Dean 'Rocky' Winchester had a broken history. As they stand, drink to drink, that history might just end.</p><p>Day 6 of my Fandom-Songs Writing Challenge (posted late)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Manhattans

**Author's Note:**

> First day of Finals are under my belt and my exhaustion has caused this to be posted a few days late. Sorry about that.
> 
> Day 6 of my Fandom-Songs 30 Day Writing Challenge found [here]().
> 
> This ficlet is based off of the song 'Bad Blood' by Taylor Swift.

Bodies were scattered around Boston at every corner. In dumpsters, on benches, under tables. The entire city was empty, everyone was locked in their homes. The city was asleep -- or more like dead. 

The police were perplexed. It was like it had happened overnight -- when the sun set there were drunken laughs at every bus stop. When it rose, there were horrified screams at every block. They counted 13 bodies by noon. No one knew who left them there. 

The forensics team was looking at the bodies under flickering lights when the Detective was called in. Detective N., which stood for Novak, which was what everyone called him, because no one knew his first name except the papers and the government. They looked at him with ‘you’re our last resort,’ and when he took one look at the body with the number ‘13’ tied to its toe, he looked at them with ‘I should have been your first.’ He knew who did the deed right away. From the faces, or the wounds, they didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell them. N left without a word or a new weapon, just a gun and  
his suit. 

He found him how he always found him. Turned around in a leather chair, fedora brim tilted over his eyes, and finger tracing the brim of a Manhattan drink. It was like he was waiting for N -- his pin-striped suit was crisp as ever, and there was an empty chair waiting on the other side of the desk. But N didn’t sit down. It wasn’t comfortable.

‘Castiel Novak,’ the man swiveled around to reveal his face, ‘pleasure to see you.’

Rocky Winchester was the proud young leader of Boston’s biggest group of thugs -- known for gambling, bootlegging, burgling, and any other crime that the police paid attention to. But no matter how much the police tried, they couldn’t catch them, and all thanks to Rocky Winchester. Anyone who was anyone knew of Winchester’s Army, and at the young age of 34, Rocky was famous for being right on top of it.

‘Winchester.’ 

‘Please, call me Rocky.’ Rocky flashed a smile at Castiel, and held his hand out. ‘Take a seat.’ Castiel didn’t take a seat, and Rocky took a sip of his drink. 

‘I know what you did last night, Winchester. I know it was you.’ So many bodies, such a short amount of time. It could only be Rocky, but of course, he scoffed.

‘Please, Novak. Do these hands look dirty to you? I didn’t do it--’

‘Bullshit.’

‘You didn’t let me finish.’ A grin spread on his face. ‘My boys did. Obviously.’

‘Shit, Winchester...’ Castiel picked his hat off of his head and ran his hand through his hair. ‘How could you?’ Rocky laughed.

‘Oh come on, we’ve both done much worse... Would you like a drink, if you’re gonna... be here a while?’ He said the last part with reluctance. The dislike between them was mutual. It was understandable, considering what happened, and although Castiel would never admit it, it hurt. ‘I’ve got Manhattan orders lined up for the day. When I finish one, another comes rolling in.’ It was now Castiel’s turn to scoff.

‘We’re in the middle of prohibition, Winchester. Aside from that, I don’t like Manhattans anyway. I’d rather take a--’

‘Gibson. Beefeater. Up. Very Dry.’ The words were taken right out of Castiel’s mouth, his jaw slack from empty sentences. ‘I remember, Silky.’ His mouth shut.

‘My name’s not 'Silk'... Dean.’ Rocky became immediately stiff. No one knew his real name, not even his Boys. 

Detective Castiel Novak was the only one in the building who knew his true identity.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester met in their early 20’s at The Boston Theatre, when it was still open. They were seeing an early screening of The Lottery Man and got sat next to each other, but ended up just throwing their 25c popcorn at each other whenever they got the chance. By the last burnt kernel, Dean saw an opportunity, and dragged Castiel back to his own apartment that night. In the morning, Castiel flicked a quarter in the air to land in Dean’s hand, to ‘pay back for the lost popcorn.’ He left with a wink.

They got to know each other over the next few years after that, and brought each other everywhere. That included work. Castiel knew that Dean was a part of his own father’s crime ring, and neither of them minded it. Dean had immunity throughout the group, and Castiel did jobs and favors for them without question or suspicion. ‘Rocky’ was created, and always alongside him was ‘Silk.’ The boys joked that Castiel was there to just smooth out Dean’s ‘rough edges.’ They were best friends to the world, accomplices to crime, and lovers to each other. But Castiel always had his own dreams, his own ambitions. When he told Dean, he took Castiel by the hidden hand and told him to ‘do as he pleased, he’ll always be there.’ The words stuck strong and Castiel stopped doing deeds for crime, and ‘Silk’ was absent from ‘Rocky,’ but Dean was always with Castiel. It wasn’t until three years later, after John Winchester had retired and Dean was the new Top Dog, did he see Castiel’s picture in the newspaper for ‘Boston’s Best Bust’ as a detective. He was using his inner knowledge on the ring of crime to bust asses behind bars, and it was only a matter of time before Dean’s own crew was turned over. So a decision had to be made. It was him, or the job, Dean said. It was Rocky and Silk, or no one at all. Castiel chose no one.

It hurt both of them, the way it happened. Only Dean knew who ‘D.N.’ really was, and only Castiel knew who ‘R.W.’ was. They were only real to each other, and they were as good as dead to each other. 

‘What are you here for, Novak? To arrest me?’

‘I could.’

‘But you won’t. And you know why?’ Dean put his drink down on his desk. It was empty.

‘I have a gun, Dean.’

‘Because you can’t do that to important people. And you couldn’t bear to see someone as important as me, locked up and put in The Chair.’ Castiel didn’t say anything as a suited teen came in from behind him and replaced Dean’s empty glass with a full Manhattan -- and beside that, a Gibson. ‘That’s the advantage I have over you, Novak. You love me too much.’ 

‘I don’t care about you, Winchester. You wanted me to go with or without you. Give up my job,just for you. You never even offered to go Legit. I couldn’t bring my self to care even an ounce, about someone as shallow as that. And,’ he slid his hand over the wood, and picked up his Gibson, ‘I should mention that I walked right up those stairs, and into this office and I didn’t even have to make an appointment? I didn’t see the nose of a single pistol. What’s up with that, Rocky? Hm? You been tellin’ your ‘Boys’ about me? ‘Bout how I only wear blue suits? ‘Bout how I scar easily on my back? About how I like my Martinis, which,’ he took a small sip and shrugged, putting the glass down, ‘could be better. Have you been doin’ that now, Rocky?’

‘You’ve got no evidence against me.’

‘I’ve got your real name.’ That’s all Castiel needed, and they both knew it.

Dean was visibly uncomfortable. He was always on top, always calling the shots, but now he was cornered. He needed a way out, or god forbid, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy his Manhattan. He shrugged.

‘I’m only letting you live for payback. It’s the way I want it,’ he tried his best to be unreadable, ‘so I can watch you suffer. Like today, like last night. I’m going to give you some cases that you can’t solve. I’m going to ruin your reputation, and show you why you shouldn’t have ever taken that fucking job over me. And my hands aren’t going to get the slightest bit dirty while I do it. 

‘You see, you spilled some bad blood back there, those few years ago. And now you’re gonna learn why you should always watch your hands.’

Castiel didn’t say a word as he drew his pistol from his inner chest pocket and spun it around on his finger.

‘I wasn’t lying when I said that I had a gun. And I’ll end you before any of it even begins.’ Dean opened a drawer and drew a handgun of his own.

‘You won’t make it out of here alive. What, you think I just let my boys sit back for a smoke while you’re here? No. They’ll hear the shot, they’re even listening for it right now. And they’ll come running up, and they’ll get you right there and then if I haven’t already, and nobody will hear that. So you do that, I get uncovered, but you’ll still lose.’

‘I don’t care if I die.’

‘But you’ll die without me.’ Castiel paused for a second, and cocked his gun.

‘So will you.’ 

That was still the game for those two. Even if one lived without the other, they both knew the truth. Living was one thing. But dying -- they were destined to do that together. But doing it on opposite sides of the board, with hands up against each other... That was something they never dreamed of.

Detective N. and Rocky Winchester were on different sides of a balance. If one went down, the other flew up. But Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, they were dominoes. They fell together. And they both knew, without words, that they loved it. They still loved each other.

The Detective pressed the nose of his gun against Rocky Winchester’s chest.

Rocky Winchester pressed the nose of his gun against The Detective’s forehead.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester counted to three.


End file.
